Kiotrness
by princess-daffodil
Summary: A series of Kiotr stories. Rated T strictly for paranoia. (Chapter six: AU- Kitty is the new girl in Piotr's second grade class)
1. Driving: And Other Face-Palm Moments

**A/N: so... first off, i have a friend who's been like... encouraging me to start posting... so i figured i'd give it a go. second off, i totally believe there is a shortage of kiotr fiction in the world right now, and this is me aiming to redeem that with what will probably shape up to be a series of one shots. this first one might be a little AU... but, i'm not certain;p (hopefully) they will get better with time and some lovely suggestions from some kind souls who want to help.  
**

**i don't own x-men evolution. if you thought i did... you're a kind of a moron.**

"This is not going as planned."

Indeed, this was not going as planned. Not going as planned at all. He had thought it would be a friendly gesture, a way of saying thank you for being so welcoming to a former enemy. Clearly: it had not been the wisest choice he'd ever made. Had he known he would be putting himself so close to the edge of death, he might have swallowed the words before they made their way out. He would have observed the _red flag_ that was everyone making nonsense excuses about why they couldn't help her ("I have to... brush my hair" or "My aunt's cat has an appointment with a physical therapist and I'm the only one who can take it"). But then she had those wide hazel eyes that seemed so bright and sweet when he'd offered and, well, he was a sucker for it.

Which is how he got roped into this mess when she was all "OMG! I like, have to retake my driving test," and went on for several minutes about how she couldn't believe they would fail her because she was a _good_ driver and _everyone else_ was just perpetuating harmful situations where she happened to be.

But as the X-Van came throttling to a stop (in the middle of the cross walk) he had to wonder if she'd exaggerated. Piotr braced himself against the dashboard of the armored vehicle before leaning back into his chair.

"Sorry." She winced as the bicyclist beside her shook his head.

"You are doing... fine?" Pete tried to think of something positive to say (really, he did). "It just takes," he looked over at her, her pretty face awry with nerves. "Practice," he said, softer, remembering how inviting she had been when he left the Acolytes and joined up less than two weeks ago.

His easy words made her smile, gave her confidence (maybe a little too much confidence:p)

She accidentally let off the break, rolling the massive van forward. _Crap! _At which point she accidentally mixed up the gas and the break, sending them flying forward. She recovered though, slamming down on the break... but not before sending his head into the roof over a speed bump.

"I'm like, so sorry!" Her hands slapped over her Perfect Peach lip-gloss coated mouth, but failed to hide the strawberry red in her once creamy cheeks.

He rubbed a hand through his dark hair. Perhaps he should have armored up before going on this adventure. "It is... alright." He looked up at her, the panicked expression on her face bringing a twinkled to his eye. He suppressed a swelling chuckle threatening his throat. "I grew up in Russia. I have experienced worse." He couldn't think of anything at the moment- he certainly couldn't think of anything more dangerous- but there had to be something... right?

She let out a nervous giggle. _I can do this. I can _freaking_ do this._ Her hands clamped around the steering wheel in a death grip.

Piotr smiled. See? She was so sweet. He had to have gone through a more dangerous situation. He had to have.

-Later (like less than three minutes later)-

Again, it was totally not her fault. That rogue squirrel came out of no where (and how could she have lived with herself if she had hit the adorable... ravenous little critter?).

Which was why they were standing by a smoking X-van, the front end smashed against a light post.

"Katya."

"Piotr." She squeaked. Great. She had ruined this for sure... ugh. Why did he have to be so cute? Why couldn't she just get some ugly guy to teach her to drive?

Contrary to her initial fears though, there was no raging blow up (from the smoking engine or from him).

"Are you alright?" He looked at her with patient blue eyes.

"Yeah but that squirrel almost gave me a panic attack. Did you see how that little guy darted out of there. He was like a flipping ninja squirrel or something crazy like-" She pursed her lips when it dawned on her that she was babbling. Like a weirdo.

He quirked a brow at her, fighting off a chuckle again. _She is... strange._ And, oddly enough... he liked that.

**A/N: so... this was only kind of ende****d. i'll admit, i didn't really know how to close it. but i do that with a lot of my stories, and i kind of like it that way.**

**anyway, if you liked this and would like to read more, or if you have some suggestions for future chapters, please review.  
**


	2. Making Sense of the Girl World

**A/N: i do not own x-men evolution**

Piotr quirked a brow at her. "Do girls really behave this way?"

"You have no idea." Kitty sighed, shaking her head at the glow of the jumbo flat screen.

"I doubt it is that bad" he raised his brows at her. She tended to over-exaggerate. This is Kitty we're talking about.

Her gaze went all misty, like she was having a flash back. A shudder skittered through her, like a mouse running up her leg.

"Katya?" He set a hand on her shoulder, vamping her back to the present. "Are you alright?"

"Dark place." She shuddered.

Piotr sighed. There were some things he would never understand: one was the girl world, the other was how someone so tiny could get him to watch _Mean Girls_.

**A/N: short. but... amusing? right? send some feedback my way.**

***inspired by a chapter from sweet-n-sassy928's wolvie's winter wonderland***


	3. More Domestic

**A/N: major thanks for the love received via reviews thus far:]**

**i don't own x-men evolution**

There were times when he thought he would never understand her.

And then there were times when he _knew_ he would never understand her.

Not that he minded. It was endearing.

"I thought you hated baking?" He smirked from the doorway, after studying her for a few minutes.

Her face jutted up at him, not startled in the slightest that he had been watching her. A streak of pink batter squiggled across her right cheek; her wrist wiped back a stray chunk of hair from her forehead. She went back to stabbing her white spatula into the pink lemonade colored cake batter. "I do." Piles of pans and tins and soiled clear bowls exploded over the counter tops. The smell of burnt chocolate floated around the kitchen like a fog.

"Then why do you insist on continuing?" His brow furrowed, but he continued to grin.

She glared at his smile. "I'm glad you find this so amusing."

"I do." He shook his head, still smirking. A twinkle lit his deep gem blue eyes.

She flicked the soggy spatula at him, sending a slop of fuchsia batter flying at his white t-shirt (which he successfully dodged).

"You are trying to start a conflict," he stepped in closer to her. "It will not work."

Another glob of gooey batter flung at him, hitting him just over his heart. He tilted his head to the side, his smile only slightly wavering. His index finger dipped in the batter. He tapped a spot on her nose, before putting the remaining mixture in his mouth.

His nose wrinkled reflexively. "What flavor is this supposed to be?"

"Strawberry." She snapped.

He kissed her forehead, and she sighed in frustration.

"If you don't like baking, then why are you baking?"

Her face soured. "I'm trying to be more domestic."

His brow quirked the way it did when he was trying to suppress a laugh.

"What's so funny?"

He just shook his head. "Nothing." He laced his fingers through hers and brought them to his lips. "I like you how you are."

She sighed and scooped the batter into the trash.

**A/N: short and sweet (hehe. i'm so punny.) ****please review!**


	4. My Life As a Barista

**A/N: i do not own x-men evolution**

I totally admit it: life as a barista sucks.

They send you to all these classes to learn how to taste coffee (and I know that _sounds_ totally awesome because it's like 'Hey, free coffee', but it's not. Especially when you've sipped like, thirteen different roasts that all taste like tar), you have to memorize all these ridiculous recipes (even the ones that no one ever orders), you're on your feet all day (and I know it sounds like I'm being a baby, but seriously, you try it. It's not fun.), and then you have to deal with all these crappy customers who "wanted skim milk you idiot! Not soy milk!" and then to top it off, they laugh at your tip jar. Literally- _laugh_.

So yeah. My occupation equals Sucksville, population: me (and all the other poor souls who work in this establishment. I would hate to deny them their pain). But what choice did I have? I was a smart girl in high school (stop snickering you jerk) but did I apply for any scholarships? No. Because I was under the impression that my parents would be paying for that. So I basically felt totally deceived when they told me they thought it would be good for me to "make my own way". They totally said it like that too- like they were doing me a solid by throwing me out to the wilderness to fend for myself.

But where was I again?

Oh yeah, my job sucks.

But every now and then something awesome happens to make it slightly less awful. Like this one time this totally uptight business man slipped in his own puddle of spilt coffee, and didn't notice that he ripped his black Armani pants on the way down. I swear, I laughed so hard I almost peed. Those golden moments were rare though, so I expected this to be another tragic waste of hours of my life, for my meager wage of heavily taxed minimum wage.

And it was. Until I started taking this blond lady's order (she was one of those people who asked for this totally complicated frap to make herself sound like some coffee connoisseur), when _he_ came in.

And what can I say? I'm kind of a sucker for the 'tall dark handsome' type. So when I started pouring cream all over the counters instead of the clear glass blender, I totally wasn't shocked.

"Whoa." I muttered to myself, re-aiming the cream back at the ice, flustered and blushing.

I set the fresh blended (messy) drink on the counter, wiped my hands on my apron, and scuttled over to the counter. That's right: _scuttled_; that's how annoyingly flustered I was.

"Like, how can I help you?" I said to the cash register. When I looked up, I nearly jumped out of my skin to see that it was the he that threw me off balance in the first place.

He chuckled it off like I hadn't just made a total idiot of myself.

Weird. He looked kind of… familiar.

"I'm- um- sorry," I said, wincing because that just sounded idiotic when it came out like that.

"It is no problem," he said with a warm smile that made his blue eyes light up all handsome like. Accent—was that Russian?

Dang.

I giggled like an idiot while he ordered a medium in the house blend. And I admit, I took a little extra care when I set his drink on the pickup counter. I even put one of those little cardboard sleeves on for him (and I usually make people do that for themselves. Because come on people: I'm not going to be your personal coffee slave for minimum wage).

He smiled like I had just put the agua de vida in front of him (instead of a cup of overpriced, relatively crappy coffee). And yeah- he totally had this perfect smile that reminded me of a Colgate commercial, and yeah- I admit I was gawking a little bit. I was smooth about it though… sort of.

"I, um, would call you but I never asked for your name," which I could very well could get fired for, because this is like the millionth time I've forgotten to take a name down.

"Piotr." He said, still working that gracious smile. He scooped up the coffee in his left hand; he had red paint streaked over his knuckles.

"Exotic," I said with a nod of my head. Now I know, you guys are like 'Geez this girl is a goober'… but I can't help it if I get diarrhea of the mouth every time someone that sexy doesn't right me off as an overgrown twelve year old. And good gracious his eyes were blue. Blue eyes. Blue blue eyes.

He chuckled. "Thank you," he nodded a good bye and walked back through the smudgy glass doors.

And do you know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking I hope he's a new regular.

Piotr. The thought made me smile (like the goofball that I was).

Oh my gosh I know where I know him from. My eyes widened as that 'oh crap' feeling set in.

The Acolyte. It _had_ to be an Acolyte.

Ugh. I really know how to pick them.

**A/N: okay, so this wasn't exactly supposed to be AU, but it was set slightly in the future (i think).**

******oh! and this might be a story i add to in future chapters of this story. if you think that is a good/ acceptable idea, please let me know. or if you have opinions or ideas or suggestions in general, that would be awesome too!  
**


	5. The Muse

**a/n: i don't own x men evolution**

"I can see the faces you're making." Peeking around his canvas, Piotr gave Kitty an amused smirk.

She sucked her tongue back in and un-scrunched her face. As innocent as she could, she shrugged.

"Hold _still_," he said with a chuckle, having lost count of how many times he'd repeated it. "At this rate, you are going to come out blurry."

Oh haha. That was hilarious.

"This is taking _forever_," she rolled her eyes. "We've been here for like, four hours."

"It's been twenty minutes."

She heaved a sigh.

"It's the down side of being a muse." He grinned at her, a slight twinkle in his eye.

Slumping, then straightening back out, she sighed again.

"Fine." She said. "But you better make me pretty."

Smiling to himself, he kept silent. He'd only paint what he could see: of course he'd make her pretty.

**a/n: very short, i know. been dealing with a massive bout of writer's block :/figured there was nothing to it but to do it. so i pulled a nike;]**


	6. New in Town: A Story of the Second Grade

**a/n: this is an AU where kitty and piotr are both kids. there will be more of these, i think... as i sort of intend to make them a series in this one-shot enterprise. enjoy!  
**

**i do not own x men evolution**

"What's your favorite kind of doughnut?" She asked, with wide hazel eyes.

Most children would think of something vague: what's your favorite color, when's your birthday... they might even go through the trouble of finding out someone's name first. Not this girl. She got right down to the nitty-gritty, faster than she could draw a line in crayon down her paper.

"My... what?" As much as he'd been working on it, his English was not entirely sound. And this girl talked like a chipmunk on speed.

At first, when Ms. Higgins had announced that the class would be receiving a new student, he was simply relieved that he would no longer be the "new kid" at their small school. His family had moved from Russia to America last year, when he was in first grade. He could sum it up in a word: terrible. Children were the cruelest of all beings. At least now they would have fresh meat to tease. Perhaps they would leave him alone.

But, when she tip toed into the classroom, a pink satin ribbon fastened in her curly chocolate hair like a headband, looking utterly lost, her hazel eyes spotted him out, and she smiled at him.

What was that ooey-gooey sensation he felt in his tummy? Like the mystery gelatin they served on Wednesdays in the cafeteria...

Whatever it was, he wasn't sure he liked it. So he looked away, going back to coloring as the teacher introduced the new girl. However, she would not be so easily avoided.

Of course, she'd planted herself at the circular table, where Piotr colored by himself. And asked him about donuts.

As he fumbled to respond, he accidentally squeezed the crayon in his hand to hard, causing it to snap. That's what happens when you get chintzy and buy the Rose Arts- just spend the extra three cents and get the Crayolas. He frowned, as that had been the only decent red crayon in the rectangular plastic bin.

"You can use mine." The girl said, digging out a green and gold Crayola box from her Lego Star Wars backpack.

"What?" He said.

No one, at least not in this class, ever wanted to share anything with him.

"Go ahead," she said, shoving the box closer to him. Carefully, he set the box in between them.

"Wanna be friends?"

He looked up at her. Friends? With a girl? They would really laugh him out of the class for that one. But, she _had_ shared her crayons with him...

"Alright." He said.

She giggled. "You talk funny."

His brow knit, but before he could respond, she moved one. "I'm Kitty."

"I am Piotr."

"Peter."

"Piotr."

"Peter."

He sighed. Close enough. No one else said it right anyway.

"I like your drawing Peter." She nudged closer to him.

Smiling genuinely, just a little, at the corners of his lips, as he was very proud of his drawings, he nodded at her. "Thank you."

But just as he said it, a pair of class favorites, Pietro and Lance stalked by.

"Oooo, Peter and the new girl sittin' in a treeeee," Pietro sang.

Piotr's ears started turning red. He did not like them, but did not want to confront them.

"What kind of a name is Kitty anyway?" Lance snickered.

As they razzed her, her face soured and she sucked in her lower lip. This bothered Piotr, because, girl or no-girl, she'd been nice to him. And she'd technically been the first friend he'd made here. It had taken him a whole year, and he wasn't about to loose that.

"Leave her alone." He said.

"Or what?" The two snickered.

"Or..." When you're seven, you tend not to think that far ahead.

"Or his big brother will kick your head in after school." Kitty finished, sticking her tongue out at them.

Their mouths shut, and they made there way back to the play area for the rest of free time.

"My big brother is in Russia." He whispered.

"They don't know that." She said.

A smile grew on her face. And this was the start of a very beautiful friendship.


End file.
